Andy Monfried's views on the Internet, Music, Family, and passion's that make life a trip.... People call me passionate, and energetic for things I believe in. Let's see if this blog can capture my focus on topics that are important TO ME. Might they be important to you?

June 25, 2014

I kept moving the needle over the album, and touching it precisely down where I knew that guitar riff started.

I was 6 years old, with a fancy little Radio Shack record player, and some small(ish) speakers.

Putting the needle on the groove was an art that I mastered.

“Day Tripper” – was a song that I could not get enough of.

It was pure perfection, the timing, the tone – and the intro of subtle drums, leading into sweet vocals.

George Harrison had played the perfect combination of space and time, and it seemed like pure creative genius.

I often wondered as a child if I would be able to do anything in my life, that would rise to the level of creating something, anything, that people would do the equivalent of what I was perfecting, dropping a needle and holding their ear to a speaker......

I never mastered guitar after years of lessons, although to be sure, I’m pretty darn good at air guitar.

In art class, I was pretty good at anything “abstract” -- including making those clear rubber balls, by spreading glue on the table – waiting for it to dry, and then rolling it up.

You see, other than playing sports – I was pretty darn average at most everything else….

But, I enjoyed some things more than others – even as a young kid, and……the opening riff in “Day Tripper” was one of them.

“Is this as good as Day Tripper?”

“Is this a durable as Day Tripper?”

You see, Day Tripper is forever. It will outlast all of us, and to me – its both timeless, and priceless.

I judge everything that I like and value (creatively) against my love of “Day Tripper.”

I judge nearly everything that I'm introduced to with the same question: “Will I like this years from now?”

Walking into a baseball stadium, and seeing the green grass, as I come out of the tunnel to approach my seats is a thrill that rivals my love of, Day Tripper. It is unexplainable, how my eyes digest and proceess, seeing the colors of a stadium for that initial moment – to this day, gives me the goose bumps.

Being at a concert, and feeling the collective energy of a band, feeding off the audience, continues to amaze me and stun me --- kinda like, Day Tripper.

Watching my daughters grow into young women is simply breath taking. I was at a photo shoot with them this week, and I stopped to ask myself if these were the same babies I held in my arms a few short years ago? Beyond Day Tripper for sure....

“Where does the time go?”

“Day Tripper” is forever.

The “flavor and style of the day” may change – but some things simply do not.

I think it is important both personally and professionally, to share our “Day Tripper” aspects of what makes us who we are…..

Because the B side, of Day Tripper was “We Can Work it Out” – and, that song happens to be both of my daughters favorite Beatle tune. Slightly ironic.

Inspiration and good energy, are two key ingredients that come from the most bizarre of places – and those very places, define who we are. They certainly define me.

And, they are timeless, like a guitar riff that to this day send chills down my spine.

June 18, 2014

Ted’s job was to take care of supplies, and manage my calendar for an early office of 25 employees.

He used my credit card, and then I would routinely submit an expense report to our CFO for reimbursement.

I found out that he bought cell phones, using my credit card.

He bought phone plans, and phone cards, with my credit card.

He bought furniture for his apartment, with my card.

When I found out, I was mad. So mad in fact, that I literally wanted to deck him in the office – but I then, thought better of it.

When I confronted him, he was calm and unapologetic.

“I didn’t think you would find out.”

“What does it matter? I didn’t hurt anyone – and you have lots of stuff.”

I sat in my chair seething, seeking to understand how anyone could think this way.

I asked him calmly, “Can you share with me how your mind processes the simple fact that you stole from me, and charged thousands of dollars on my personal card, and you have no remorse, or regret?”

He did not care.

He got up, walked out – and I never saw him again.

I’ve had people steal, cheat and lie to me – to gain something that perhaps they needed.

It hasn’t altered my trust in people. It has made me more aware.

Recently, a friend called. A 20 year business associate stole over $2 million dollars from him by padding his bills.

Was he lazy, did he trust too much?

I don’t know, but I prefer to think the latter.

Trust is not a two way street. Trust is given, or earned – but it need not be reciprocated.

Trust can be a one way street, and it can be lethal.

In today’s world it seems to be OK, and accepted to “skirt the truth” when it comes to ones word, moral/values, and honesty.

It’s true in both public and private life.

We recently found out a competitor lied about us, and our capabilities in an effort to denigrate our product, and make themselves look better.

And it paid dividends, as they won the business.

I was mad for a brief second – but then, thought to myself --- “their misrepresentations will come full circle, and the planets will correct themselves.”

Am I delusional?

I think not.

As terrible as it sounds, I do believe that there is always a spot for an “ethical, honest, and positive” – organization in the world of corporate America.

Who would dare say, “We are NOT ethical, honest and positive?”

No one.

And, that’s my point.

I did not question Ted, or ask him if he was “moral, ethical and honest” before I hired him.

He would have told me he was anyway. He would have lied.

But, I could have asked differently.

“What are your biggest failures?”

“What are you most embarrassed about?”

“What was your single biggest mistake?”

“What is your weak spot?”

“Tell me about someone that does not like you, and what would they say about you?”

These questions – force honest answers.

When I interview someone, and they cant be direct, honest, self effacing and downright in the fact that they can speak the truth about their faults, mistakes, and shortcomings…

Well, I don’t want them. I can’t hire someone who cannot be honest about themselves.

I’m sure Ted would have told me (had I asked) that he had no faults, and no shortcomings.

Our best employees at Lotame go into great detail about their failures, embarrassments, and faults during the interview process. These are the honest people I want to work with – and who I respect – and TRUST, from the start.

We end up partnering with people we deserve in the end.

I don’t know why people say, “The End” – because as far as I’m concerned – every new connection, is a beginning.

Constantly waiting to see how the fabric of the partnership turns out.

Will they be a “Ted”? Or, will they be a trusted connection?

I thank Ted for being an early lesson, (stealing from me) and one I learned by paying for cell phone plans and cards, from nearly every bodega in the Bronx.

I hope all those free phone calls that were made by people, with my stolen credit card, paid as many dividends for those people, as Ted did for me, in “The End.”

March 18, 2014

Lotame Acquires AdMobius

NEW YORK, March 18, 2014 /PRNewswire/ -- Lotame, the world's leading independent data management platform (DMP), today announced it has acquired AdMobius, the industry's first mobile audience management platform.This strong combination will give marketers and publishers the power to engage with relevant audiences, at scale, across devices and marketing channels.

"This acquisition will empower our clients to engage with unique and relevant consumer audience segments across devices at a deeper, more accurate level than ever before," said Andy Monfried, founder and CEO of Lotame. "We will continue to create value for our clients and support their cross-platform data management needs."

Founded in 2012 and based in San Mateo, California, AdMobius brings to Lotame an experienced data science and technology team and strong partnerships across the mobile ad-tech ecosystem. AdMobius helps these partners target large cross-device audiences by demographics and interests through standard, custom and private audience segments.

"Marketers and publishers around the world use Lotame's unifying DMP to organize and convert data from multiple sources into actionable insights," said Ray Duong, CTO of AdMobius. "Similarly, AdMobius merges data from multiple fragmented sources into an easy-to-use, universal audience targeting system. Together, Lotame and AdMobius will be offering an unparalleled platform for both marketers and publishers to discover and target relevant audiences across devices."

Both AdMobius and Lotame are privacy progressive companies, adhering to strict industry standards for consumer privacy and providing choice solutions. Lotame will continue to ensure consumer privacy across devices and provide an easy way for consumers to opt out of interest-based ads.

About AdMobius AdMobius, the first mobile Audience Management Platform, enables publishers and advertisers to discover and target relevant audiences at scale. By organizing and interpreting unique demographic and interest-based information, AdMobius unlocks the rich value of mobile data. Based in San Mateo, Calif., AdMobius has strong partnerships with mobile advertising technology companies to improve the performance and reach of mobile ad campaigns. AdMobius is backed by Opus Capital and Storm Ventures. For more information, visit http://www.admobius.com.

March 03, 2014

In the mid 90’s, I worked for a company that focused on providing a service to law firms.

It was a great job, where I learned a lot about sales, service, and building relationships.

I’ve written previously about my experiences at that company, but a post that I wrote a few years ago, called “My First Game Changing Deal” – was a result of that job. That post can be found here.

I was lucky. Extremely lucky.

Each year, the top salespeople were awarded a “President’s Club” Trip. It was a prestigious award for the top 10% of sellers at the company, and each year the company would put together an all expenses paid for “boondoggle” to places like, The Bahamas, Arizona, Palm Springs, or Nashville TN.

It was to celebrate and award top performers across the company, with little to no work being done on these trips – it was mostly, golf, drinking, and some nightly entertainment.

The evening entertainment varied from comedian to mentalist, and on the Nashville trip – something special occurred.

I’ve long been a music buff. I really enjoy diverse types of music, and music has been a critical ingredient in my daily life.

In Nashville, I really enjoyed walking downtown, and stepping into the clubs and seeing live music. I had never been to Nashville before, and being on the street with all (what they call) “Honky Tonks” was really tremendous to witness.

It was golf during the day, then a dinner at night – followed by entertainment, then late nights at a bar.

However, this night was different.

Once the dinner ended, the curtain came up – and a band took the stage.

The guys looked a bit old, and they were clearly an influential band (you could tell by their demeanor and swagger as they approached their instruments), who's ages were in their late 50’s/early 60’s.......they were playing a, "corporate gig."

The music started.

I loved it.

But, as I rose out of my seat – and gravitated TOWARDS THE BAND – I noticed most of my peers doing, the exact opposite.

As the music started – all the employees and my co-workers, were moving to the back of the room, and away from the stage.

The huge ballroom had at most 200 people from the company, and the composition of the 200 – over 100 were executives, (VP’s and Leaders of various business units) and then, there were additionally 100 sales people like me.

200 in total in the room.

It was 199 people in the back of the room, talking.

I was alone in front of the band – on the makeshift dance floor, standing directly in front of them.

I stood in front of, "The Guess Who" -- a group of absolute legends, dancing -- twirling and showing a proper amount of energy, excitement, and respect -- for a group of men who were putting on a "corporate gig" - far below their normal attendance, venue, or expectations....

I was in heaven. It was incredible to hear what would turn out to be "An Evening of Greatest Hits with, The Guess Who."

My dancing, and their jamming --- their sweet voices, and quality of their sound, was overwhelming to my sense, and I was truly in a trance. A dancing trance.....

My fellow employees all stood in the back of the room. Some were goofing on the band, and their appearance(s), the way they looked, while others stood stoically -- some laughing, and jeering at me.

For a moment I was uncomfortable, standing alone at company conference, with a beer in my hand, dancing by myself -- while every single attendee was in the back of the room --- some not paying attention and involved in conversation, while others joked at what they saw in front of them.

Me. Alone. And, some 60 year old men playing classic rock.

A solid 45 minutes went by, with the band playing hit after hit.

There I was, front and center -- twirling, eyes closed, dancing to the music, and then......

A burst of a guitar -- and the song, "American Woman" (one of their hits) begins.

And one by one -- like Penguins jumping into the water, or a mass migration of animals running with the herd, I was suddenly surrounded by 200 of my peers dancing, and enjoying themselves.

I was no longer alone, I was sharing the dance floor with 200 fast followers, who were President Club winners in business.....

And, I realized I did not belong on the dance floor any longer. Nor did I belong at this company.

It was my turn to go to the back of the room -- and, stand at the bar, order a beer and stare at my fellow attendees, while they enjoyed the awesome music that I had just danced to.....alone.

The band finished.

The room applauded mightily.

The evening was coming to a close.

I got a tap on the shoulder........

"Hey man, are YOU CANADIAN?"

It was the lead singer, of "THE GUESS WHO."

He came to the back of the room to find me....

"Man, you can dance -- and we really appreciate it. Hey, after breakdown and load out, a few of the guys in the band and crew are going downtown to see a cool live performer, and we want to know if you want to join us."

I replied -- without missing a beat, "Hell yes."

(a seperate post is coming on the rest of the night, and my interactions with The Guess Who...)

Suffice to say, it was quite an experience.

It all happened because I chose to, dance alone.

Sometimes, dancing alone pays dividends. Sometimes dancing with a partner is the way to go....

I will never forget my night with The Guess Who.

Much like a company, they have evolved. They have evolved in people, in style, and over time.

Close your eyes and twirl. You might open them to find yourself in a small bar, standing next to a group of Canadians, watching another Canadian young star, named Shania Twain, sing her heart out.

And, you might leave the other 199 President Cup Winners back at the Opryland Hotel.

February 09, 2014

I hear those words coming from the row behind me, on my cross-country flight.

“As you live your life --- it appears to be anarchy and chaos, a ton of random non-related events. They all smash into each other causing this situation, or that situation. It’s totally overwhelming, and you say, “What is going on with my life how did I end up here, on this path?” Later, when you look back at it, it looks like a finely crafted novel. But, at the time, it sure doesn’t feel that way….and that’s life in a nutshell, we are all building our own novels of life – with constant adding and subtracting.” Joe Walsh.

At that moment – in the morning, the entire world was outside of the window, precisely right in my seat -- 8D, leaving the ground at Newark Airport, en route to LA.

The little boy said gleefully to his Mom as he glanced out from his window seat – sitting in the row behind me, as the plane ascended into the sky……

“Mommy, I can see the whole entire world.”

The whole world, for a 5-year-old boy was in his view – right out his window, from his seat , as the wheels of our plane left the ground.

I’m jaded somewhat from experiences, religion, politics – and people. We all are tainted a bit, to one extent or another from life's experience and mileage. I’m a bit sullen on some folks, and how they relate and treat others.

It sways day to day – from belief, to despair.

I can’t sleep some nights, --- and one night I found myself listening to an infomercial on the radio, while lying awake in bed at 2:32am -- extolling the virtues of Fish Oil pills.

So the next day I go and buy them at the vitamin shop.

Then, a month later I read in the newspaper that Fish Oil causes problems in men, and the Fish Oil pills I bought are bad for you.

So, I stop taking Fish Oil.

I like Roger Waters, and I go see him many times in concert over the years.

His creativity is amazing.

I buy his albums.

I go to see him in concert , and he shows the Star of David, super imposed on a pig – then, overlaid with a swastika.

I chalk it up to creativity.

Then, I see over the past few years --- he wades into total anti Semitism – in a veiled attempt at being “anti Settlement” -- or Pro Palestinian. He is on a campaign to “Boycott the State of Israel” and for the countries of the world -- to treat Israel, the same way South Africa was treated during apartheid.

He wants Israel isolated.

He wants Israel to be a pariah country until it no longer exists, and is destroyed as a Jewish State.

Roger Waters is only Anti-Israel, he does not focus on Islamic repression across the globe -- (he neglects to talk about the treatment of minorities in Gaza or the way Hamas rules, or treats others) – which to me is completely anti Semitic. Simply put, when you want the only Democratic government in the region to kill itself, in an effort to please you, through giving up territory that will be used to kill – then yes, you are 100% an anti Semite. Wear it proudly Roger – it fits you well.

So, I stop listening to Roger Waters. I wont buy any more of his work, and I remove his art from my collection of music.

I stop Roger Waters.

A friend disappointed me recently.

I stopped talking to him.

I’m sitting on a plane – and I watch across the aisle. a man pour his 10th small bottle of vodka into his plastic cup.

What is he thinking about, as he is staring into the back of the blue clothed seat in front of him? He hasn’t moved a muscle other than to pour his drink, and then he only moves, when he pulls the tiny bottle from his bag, and pours it into his cup.

What’s he thinking?

I imagine a story about him. I wonder if he is thinking that he should quit drinking, because it has not helped his life.

He should. Those small bottles are keeping him from being great, and productive --- I tell myself.

He stares. Arms folded.

I wonder if he is angry.

I just watched the movie “The History of The Eagles, Part One” I have 16,000 songs that I own – and there no Eagles songs in my collection of music.

I have Joe Walsh solo works, The James Gang – but, no Eagles.

I’m adding them to my collection as soon as this plane lands. It’s hard not to like and respect them once you watch their history – and creativity.

I’m adding the Eagles.

I watch my children turn into young adults.

I can’t stop them (watching them mature and no longer be the little kid I want them to be forever) – it’s hard, but I’m starting to embrace it.

I try to add my ability to bite my lip, stand down – watch them grow, and stand back so I can in the front row --- of their show of life.

“Mommy, I can’t see the world anymore – it’s all clouds.”

Fish Oil, and Roger Waters - eventually give way to The Eagles, and my daughters growing up ---- and then the sky becomes clear.

February 05, 2014

“Hey, want to go and see a concert? It’s at Middlesex County College.”

My friend Bill Vitti lived across town from me. We went to separate elementary schools, but for 8 years, we went to the same day camp.

Bill was an only child, who was not a good athlete, and was often thought of as a loner.

We were polar opposites in almost every way, and perhaps that is why I liked him – and became friends with him at a young age, precisely because we were so different from each other.

“Why are you friends with him?” – kids would ask me.

But, I really liked him, being that he was an only child --- combined with the fact that he had great toys at his house, and he was a deep thinker who I always thought was more mature than many of my other pals.

The calls would go something like this, from him to me----

“Hey, do you want to go see Commander Cody band at Middlesex?”

“Hey, do you want to go see the Marshall Tucker Band?”

His Dad drove us, and we went in.

Truth is, I never heard of any of the bands I was seeing at the time – nor had I ever heard any of their songs. I just enjoyed an adventure – and so did Bill. We were wide eyed 12 year olds……

Bill’s Dad was a middle-aged man, short in stature who worked in the “Waste Management” Business. He was in the business of collecting and disposing of garbage from many of the municipalities, surrounding our town.

As I got in his car to go see a band called The Outlaws, I said – “Mr. Vitti, thanks for driving us, I’ve never heard of this band – can you tell me about their music?”

He responded, “I’ve got no clue – I just want to see live music with my son.”

I should have known then and there something was weird, but my internal radar did not go off, as I was on an adventure with Bill.

Whenever we walked into a concert, Bill’s Dad always went off on his own, and left us to ourselves – he said, “I will meet you right here when the show is over.”

He always came back at the end of the night – with 2 concert t-shirts, one for me, and one for Bill.

Molly Hatchet, The Outlaws, Marshall Tucker – all different nights, over a 24 month period in the early 80’s. He took us to them all.....

The first few concerts were good, although loud.

After the 5th concert (I think The Outlaws) I was more focused and involved with, watching the crowd – than I was the music itself.

The people became my entertainment.

I stood with Bill off to the side of the stage. I was people watching – watching the fans take in the music of the act – of which I knew nothing about.

I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

A short man in a white t-shirt, giving someone a hard time.

He had a flashlight.

I saw him flash a badge.

I saw him take a plastic bag from a person he was shining the light on.

Then, I watched him some more.

He kept repeating the same act, hassling people who were smoking weed.

It was Mr. Vitti – Bill’s Dad. It was Bill’s dad scaring the heck out of people.

He would walk up to people, flash a badge – shine a light in their eyes, and take their drugs from them.

I saw him do it no less than 10 times – in a one hour period.

I saw the faces of nervous teenagers as they handed over their little plastic bag, to someone who represented himself as a police officer.

Mr. Vitti had no interest in music, his only interest was taking his son and I to a concert that he knew nothing about ---- all with the intention of stealing drugs.

He pretended he was a cop.

I watched as a 13 year old kid in utter amazement and disbelief.

When we got in the car, he emptied his pockets into the glove compartment, and it was a ton of bags that I watched him stuff in – pocket after pocket full of little baggies jammed into the glove compartment. All acquired that night.....

He was a thief. He was a drug Dad.

Bill knew I knew – and he was embarrassed for what I saw.

That night was the last time I ever spoke to, or saw Bill and his Dad. I never returned his calls after that, nor did I respond when he would call and ask my Mom if I could see a show with him. I stopped going to the day camp we both attended.

Our friendship, and communication ended…….

It ended, in the backseat of a Chevy Impala, as Mr. Vitti dropped me off --- I shut the door on Bill and his Dad – and knew I would never go to a concert with them again.

We are all surrounded by Mr. Vitti’s – people who want to steal from us.

But, they don’t want our stash, or our drugs.

They want energy.

They want attention.

They want to shine a light in your face and say, “Gimme what you got.”

I’ve experienced it. So have you.

A few years ago, I was introduced to a VC by a mutual friend – he asked me a ton of questions, (sensitive questions feigning interest in investing in my company) – then went out and less than a week later invested in a competitor.

Another time, I was introduced to a key executive at a major media company by a board member. I shared the in’s and out’s of my business --- and a month later he opened up his own company, copying and literally lifting my ideas – both old and new concepts about our roadmap.....

They sting.

I’ve learned to deal with thieves. Energy thieves who need to rob from me, to feed their empty souls.

I’ve lived and learned --- and truth is, I would not change much of what, and how I trust and work with people…..

I’m just more aware.

Now, I look at (the thievery) as a badge of honor. I was watching a panel, where someone used the term “BCP.”

We coined that in this industry I'm in – now, I hear others using the terms, and literally using a phrase we coined --- in an effort we used to build a company, and explain our technology.

We got no attribution. I don’t expect it. But, it still stings.

And, I smile.

Years ago I cringed.

I was shocked as a kid watching Mr. Vitti steal drugs from people at a concert.

I’m old enough that I’m no longer shocked or saddened when the thief comes knocking at my door……

I simply can close my office door, smile and turn on music.

“Inspiration move me brightly.”

In some weird way, Mr. Vitti -- as he stole drugs, did more to teach me morals and ethics, than any teacher or classroom…..

December 02, 2013

I hung flyers in shopping malls with a friend, trying to build something from nothing. We drove around to every strip mall – taping our signs like crazy, trying to get attention for our idea.

Years later, flying what seemed like endless miles to raise money. Scraping together my life savings, to start a company.

A dream.

A dream that no matter how it evolves, I can proudly say,

“I tried.”

And for that, I am eternally grateful to all those who have supported me.

People that stuck with me --- through thick and thin.

All the employees who did not work out, or just did not work. All the people who laid the groundwork, in order for me to, attempt to achieve my dream. All of the people who have made me a better person --- folks that gave me a chance.

But, the secret is --- I had no dream. No real goals, and no real plan.

Don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.

There is no planning – no business plan, or roadmap.

There are bumps, pitfalls, valleys, and most of all – death at every turn --- danger at my door.

No one will tell you that. No one will utter the words,

“I want you to fail.”

They do – but don’t say it out loud.

After all, that would be rude.

We have all been programmed to make every attempt, not to be rude.

Don’t be rude. And, make a plan.

That is what I learned in most of my years in school, in one variation or the other.

It was 2am on a September evening. I was walking into my dorm after a night out.

The air was warm.

As I walked toward my dormitory entrance, I noticed a commotion in front of the building. There was a lot of screaming and banging on the doors leading into Schine Hall.

2 men, trying to get in the glass doors. 2 men pacing, and banging their fists against the glass.

A woman on the other side, begging me NOT TO OPEN the door – begging me not to let them in. A frightened look on her face, like I’ve never seen.

I lived there. I lived in a room past those glass doors. This was my home.

One of them said to me, “Open the door now, or we will take your key from you.”

The woman on the other side was crying, her clothes looked ripped --- and she was clearly panicked, and very afraid. I recognized her as a classmate, and someone who I knew lived in the dorm with me……

However, the men were banging angrily, on the glass doors around me trying to get the woman on the other side of the glass doors……

These were not students.

I told them to back up – I wasn’t letting them in – and I wasn’t giving them my key.

One of them began to reach into his pocket, as he moved closer to me.

Instinctively, I snapped. I felt like he was going for something (perhaps a knife) in his pocket.

I lashed out and began pummeling the man who approached me.

I hit him with a left across his jaw– that sent him backwards down a flight of concrete stairs, and watched him hit his head on the way down. It was like slow motion -- watching his head hit the stairs……

The man who I hit, lay motionless on the ground. Not moving.

The other man came at me as well, seeing his friend was injured.

I managed to pin him (the other man) down --- and hold him in a headlock for about 30 seconds, but it seemed like 10 years.

The police came, and then the ambulance arrived, to take way the injured man that I had struck., who had landed on his head. The man lying on the ground – not moving was being attended to frantically by the medical people.....

I watched them load him onto a stretcher – as they lifted him (still motionless) into the ambulance.

He went into a coma.

The man’s coma lasted for 6 days.

But, not before I spent 7 days --- at various times, in a police station telling my story, precisely and exactly --- to a multitude of investigators, detectives, and officers.

I had no attorney, because I felt like I had done nothing wrong.

When the man pulled through, and emerged from his injury – I was told by a police officer ---

“Had he died, we would have been forced to charge you with something ---- manslaughter, murder, or something that addressed the fact that a young man died --- intentional or not, by your actions.”

It sent a chill up my spine.

That very chill, lives inside me to this day.

The constant reminder of how fast everything can be taken away, in an innocent instant.

Those glass doors in my dorm that night protected a young woman, from her aggressors.

In my life, the only glass door I have is my family, and my confidence and passion in believing and acting upon what I believe to be right.

And, many times “acting upon what is right” requires you to make the decision in a split second. The right decision for you.......

Without a plan. Without a net below you to protect you when you fall.

You see, I’ve got no plan, and no dreams.

Just instinct.

They don’t teach “instinct” in school – but it is the most used, and least taught, quality necessary to be successful.

October 24, 2013

I was crossing a two lane, very busy road with a bunch of
guys I knew.

We were walking into a bar, to celebrate our team winning
the playoff game.

Our softball team played well – and we went to a local bar
to have a few beers, and get some appetizers.

We were crossing the street. Cars were coming mostly from one direction.

4 or 5 of my teammates were crossing the street with me.

Out of nowhere a car does a UTURN on the busy street, and
slams into a man who was riding his bicycle.

The biker went flying about 10 feet into the air.

It was like slow motion.
The man was airborne – and he let out this helpless kind of a screetch.

The driver of the car barely stopped or even noticed that it
had just hit a person.

I ran to help the man on the bike.

He was mangled around the bike, his legs twisted in
different directions, and blood was everywhere. He was groaning in agony.

It was a surreal scene.

As I ran to help the man, I had a million thoughts going
through my head – but, the first one was --- STOP THE BLEEDING.

So, I took off my shirt.

I helped him, and so did the many motorists in their cars, that stopped on the
road, backing up traffic.

I noticed though, that my teammates who were crossing the
street with me, were nowhere to be found.

As I sat with the biker --- I tried to calmed
him down, and attempted to help him feel a bit better until the ambulance arrived.

I sat there on the
ground, next to him (I was shirtless) it was then that I noticed that --- NO ONE FROM MY TEAM WAS NEXT TO ME, OR HELPING THIS
INJURED BIKER.

Not one of the guys who saw the biker get hit, bothered to run over to the scene with me, and help out an innocent young man.

I was mad.

I was hurt.

I was angry.

I was disappointed.

They (my softball teammates) had all seen the accident, and chosen to walk away from
it – and go get their beer instead of helping out, showing their concern, or
basically doing anything.

********************************************************************

My kids were visibly upset.

I was talking to the kids over dinner, and they told
me a story of an IDF officer (Israel Defense Force) who spoke to their school at an assembly that day.

He spoke about the humanitarian side of the conflict in the Mid-East. He was talking to the kids about how Syrian
Mothers are bringing their injured children to the fence with Israel. Syrian Mothers who live in a country
that is in a state of war with Israel –
and yet these women walk through minefields on the Syrian side -- they drag their children past all kinds of impediments, to place their hand on the border fence – and beg for medical help.

He explained how the IDF quietly, and with little fanfare –
at great risk to themselves, crosses into hostile, enemy territory to bring the
injured people into the State of Israel.

A moving story – coming from a young officer who has seen
and experienced this first hand. From a news story on the subject:

Syria and Israel are formally at war, and the idea of Syrians
being treated in an Israeli hospital once would have been unthinkable. But the
brutality of the Syrian civil war has driven some 200 wounded Syrians in the
past six months to seek help at the Israeli frontier on the Golan Heights,
according to the Israeli army.

Soldiers take them to a field hospital for treatment and triage,
with more serious cases sent to hospitals in northern Israel. About 100 have
been treated at the Nahariya hospital, with more arriving as news of the
Israeli medical aid spreads by word of mouth.

For the man in the bed, who declined to be named for fear of
retribution against his family back home, treatment in Israel has been a
profoundly transforming experience.

“I thank the Israeli army,” he said. “Two and a half years of
revolution have changed my opinion of Israel. Look what Bashar Assad” – Syria’s
president – “has done to his people. Everything he says is a lie. He spreads
hatred of Israel, but Israel is a friend, not an enemy. The Israelis showed us
their humanity.

The IDF officer spoke in front of many children that day. Sharing his experiences about stories like the above.

Few students paid attention to the young officer who was
speaking to the class. Others were disrespectful,
and poking fun at his foreign accent.

I listened over dinner to them tell me this story -- watching them explain how they felt, about how this young man was being treated at their school.

My daughters together went up to the man at the end of the IDF officers
presentation, and apologized for their classmates behavior, and thanked him.

They thanked him for his dedication, his service – and his
ability to share his stories --- and they told him how it made them feel. They shared with the young many how the talk
that he just gave, made them honored and humbled to be in his presence.

As my daughters told me this – I was moved. I was proud. I was humbled by my very own children.

(At this point, more transpired – such as phone calls to the young
officer, but that isn’t the point, nor is it pertinent to the story)

What is pertinent is that our children learn by the unspoken
word – they learn by actions. Sometimes we talk too much.

My teammates left me that day to care for an injured biker on a
busy street.